#familiar fashion contest

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2

A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did

>>Masterpost

Original this builds on: Link

Rowdy Cousin

Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.

"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.

"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.

Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-

He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.

The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.

No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.

The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.

"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.

"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"

"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.

Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."

"Who?"

"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."

"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.

He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.

This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.

He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.

"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"

The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.

And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.

"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."

The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"

The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."

Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."

Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.

"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."

"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."

"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"

"Hn."

"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."

As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."

The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"

"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.

"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"

"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"

"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."

"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"

The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.

"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"

Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.

Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"

The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"

"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.

"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."

Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"

Chaos broke among the present heroes.

"WHAT UNCLE?!"

[milky-aeons]

— IN THE INTERIOR

౨ৎ  . . . in which JEAN KIRSCHTEIN finally gets that idyllic little home in the interior, reminisces on the echoes of war, and can't seem to keep his hands off of his pregnant newly-wed wife.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, pregnancy, depictions of violence, memories of war/ptsd, mdni, w.c 2.4k

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓, clinking against the crystal glass that reflected the light.

It jostled Jean from his dark musings — calling him back from the battlefield within his mind.

He glanced over at it, blinking. Reaching towards the little glass, he picked it up and swirled the contents around. It was a fine whiskey — brewed and stored in Ashwood barrels to give it that intoxicating flavour. During his soldier days, Jean had only been able to dream about touching such expensive whiskey to his lips. And yet here he was, on a bright afternoon deep into autumn, drinking a glass like he had an endless supply of it on his home terrace in the Capital.

It was everything he could have ever wanted.

And yet, it did nothing to quell the screams and cries, the memories of bloodshed roaring up to wash over him.

To drown him.

From the moment he had woken up next to his snoozing wife that morning, Jean just knew today was going to be tough. There were many of them ever since the war ended — days where he could not get out of bed, where he couldn't even will himself to step into the shower without feeling like he was choking. The scars left from the war were deep and corrosive, and perhaps, they would never heal. But he owed it to each and every one of his fallen comrades to continue on. To build something beautiful out of the ashes left in their wake.

Jean winced suddenly — his fight or flight kicking in. In his ears, there was not the gentle din of shoppers from the Mitras street below or the chirping of bluebirds. There was carnage. There was the sounds of screaming orders, of ripping bodies and explosives. In one fraction of a second, he was back on that airship — he was getting ready to dive with his comrades onto the back of the Founding Titan with a slim chance that he would make it out alive—

"Morning, darling," An angel spoke to him, slicing through the clouds, and he felt something warm and comforting sliding down his taut chest. "You're quiet. Is everything alright?"

Slowly, so agonisingly slowly, the images of their last battle dissipated like departing smoke. In its remnants; the sounds of the markets below, the sweet-smelling breeze touched by autumn leaves, feminine arms reaching over his shoulders and playing with his frock.

Feminine — the scent of lilies and warmth. His wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife.

Jean inhaled, his chest expanding almost painfully, and fashioned his face into something composed. He craned his head back to meet your eyes. They were haloed in the tumbles of [h/c] hair that cascaded down to hide him from the outside world.

He flashed you a signature, cheeky grin. "All good. What are ya doin' up this early though?" He fired back at you, his eyebrows pinching with tender concern. "You should be resting."

It was true — and every time he saw the evidence of the life swelling in your belly, Jean felt the need to slap himself. Really, really hard, just to be sure. There was a bright glow that touched the tips of your cheeks, your breasts has swollen and become heavier, readying for the child who would be born within the next few months. A father, he was going to be a father. What were the fucking odds that they had made it this far, you and him, that you were bringing life into this new world. Something he originally believed would have been impossible.

You narrowed your eyes at your husband. There was a familiar look on his face, one which caused you to reach up and brush the curve of his brow.

"You have nightmares in your eyes, my love." You whispered.

He didn't contest, didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. Instead, he closed those honey-coloured eyes and sighed. Jean nudged into your touch — a silent ask — and you continued to rub soothing arcs against his skin. Smoothening out the wrinkles of his bunched expression.

"Shh, it's okay," You murmured in a calming tone. "You are safe. You are here, Jean. We made it. Nothing is going to hurt us, anymore."

Your husband took in deep breaths. First, quick and shallow, which then levelled out into a pace more even. From stroking his face, you let your deft fingertips dance along his skin and sink into his unruly hair, still unbrushed and tousled by sleep. It was past his ears now, you noticed, curling against the nape of his neck in soft sweeps.

"Your hair has gotten long again." You remarked, playing with their ends.

"Hmm," Jean responded. "Suppose so. Kinda like it." He then opened his eyes to look at you once more, and when he did, you were delighted to find they were their bright whiskey-gold, just like the bottle on your terrace table. You smiled softly down at him.

"You have come back to me."

Jean stared at you with those unyielding, clever eyes. He then reached up to catch your caressing hand and turned his face to place a kiss in the palm.

"Always." He whispered.

You would have spent that tender moment just basking in the sunlight with him there, thankful that you both had this time together. Your husband, however, seemed to have other plans. First, it was a wicked little glint that flashed across his eyes — and in the next moment, he was up, using the hand he had clasped to spin you around and hoist you up into his arms.

"J-Jean—!" You choked down a laugh. He scooped you up effortlessly into a bridal-style hold, walking through the terrace doors and into your shared little kitchen.

"Well, my wife is just lookin' extra beautiful this morning!" He chirped, and spun you around and around. Your giggles became a loud, playful scorn, calling him a silly man and demanding that he set you down before he made you and the baby dizzy.

"Our baby will come with a perpetual issue of poor balance!" You cried when he finally stopped, holding you close to him.

"If he's anything like his old man," Jean said. "He will have no problems. In fact, he'll be a damn master at all things balance. You know what they called me in the cadets, right?"

"Yes, yes. Mr. Genius at ODM Gear." Your faces were close, and you nuzzled into the strong column of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just hope he will not be as big-headed."

"Hah? What did you say?"

Jean was peppering kisses starting from the very crown of your head, following a path of heat down your forehead, your cheeks, then finishing at your neck and giving you a playful nip.

You yelped, swatting at him. It only spurned him on, his broad shoulders that you held onto for support rumbling with his deep laughter. His butterfly kisses against your neck became a frenzy, tickling all of your sensitive spots, murmuring in his low voice who are ya makin' fun of? Hm? He both made you giggle and sparked a familiar heady feeling low in the pit of your stomach.

Your chuckles deepened in time with your quickening breath. It became thready and shallow, increasing in time as your heartrate picked up. Still in his captive bridal hold, you slid your hands from his shoulders to around his neck, tugging at his hair in that way you knew drove him wild.

His kisses tripped over your skin when you did so, his breath caught. Pleasured need rippled throughout your body. The kisses he placed on your neck became messier, changing from swift and teasing to hot, open-mouthed. You craned your head back to give him better access and he wasted absolutely no time — dragging the flat of his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, humming when you arched up in his hold.

Jean hoisted you up a little so he could move swiftly through the apartment. His long legs ate up the distance, gliding through the little one-storey terrace you had both made your home in the interior. You leaned up to him while he moved, kissing him sweetly, tenderly. Speaking in words you said so many times and would continue to say again; I love you. Now and forever.

Your second kiss, however, was meaner — you clamped your teeth on his bottom lip and he growled.

When he reached the bedroom you both shared, you felt Jean kick the door shut behind him, before walking you over to the unmade bed and placing you down. So gently, so caringly. The fragility of how he held you was almost enough to shatter your heart. The mattress dipped when he kneeled over you, encouraging you to lie down flat.

"You're gonna pay for doing that." He murmured in a rough voice.

Innocently, you bat your eyelashes. "For what, my dear husband?"

He leaned down so that your foreheads connected and closed his eyes, sighing hard through his nose. "For being so fuckin' irresistible."

Every inch of you was set alight as he leaned over you, caging you down to the bed with his larger body. You tried to surge up — to feel his mouth on yours and never stop, but he rose, kneeling so he could look down at you.

He was still in that light cotton sleeping shirt he wore to bed — hanging loosely around his neck, throwing his tanned skin into sublime focus. His golden eyes shadowed into a deep whiskey followed from your face, to your aching breasts, to your belly. The little swell there made his expression soften. He placed a hand onto your warm stomach and held it still, feeling the child you will soon share and raise together, his newly polished wedding band catching the morning light.

You felt like you were going to burst with the sheer force of love you felt for this man, Jean Kirschtein, your husband, for now and always. The longer you stared at him, the stronger the low pulse between your legs became.

"Jean." You whispered, and he looked up from under his fair lashes, understanding the plea in your voice.

Jean took his time undressing you, like the wicked little thing he was, delighting at how you wriggled under his touch like a trapped and desperate butterfly. When he had stripped both of you bare, you marvelled at the strong planes of his chest and tight, defined abdominal muscles. You traced each and every little scar he wore proudly, feeling those muscles twitch underneath your touch.

He was perfect. He was yours.

"Come here." You crooned, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you.

"Yes ma'am."

Your arms did not fit across the large expanse of his back muscles — you sunk your nails into the curves of his shoulder bones, feeling as they shifted when he crawled on top of you. His head dipped down to catch one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth and he sucked — nibbling softly. Your head knocked back. When he lifted his hand and closed the entirety of his palm over your unattended breast, the moan you let out was long and broken.

"They've gotten big, hm?" He whispered against your chest, chasing his words with loving kisses. "So pretty."

Impatient, lust racing through your bloodstream, you grabbed his wandering hand and guided it to where you ached between your thighs. So slick and swollen, Jean's eyebrows raised, his expression becoming incredibly smug.

"Oi, you've gotten impatient, have you?"

"Oh—yes, yes." You groaned when his fingers curled against you. He knew all the right spots to push, to rub, to make you sing for him.

"Come on, sweetheart, tell me what ya need."

"I need—oh, I need you!"

"Like this?" He cooed, pushing two fingers into you with such tender slowness. It felt exquisite, it felt so filling when you were hot and aching — but not enough.

To urge him, you hooked your leg around the strong curve of his lower back and pulled him into you. He made a sound of surprise, releasing his fingers from you to catch his weight by bracing his hands on either side of your head.

His wide eyes collided with your fierce ones. The intensity you were looking at him with made this ex-soldier's cock give a painful twitch.

"I need you. Inside me. Now."

Pleasure exploded down Jean Kirschtein's spine in a thousand lightning bolts. He hung his head forward, groaning, before reaching down to push your thighs gently apart to allow for his body to slot neatly with yours.

"Well, what typ'a husband would I be if I denied you?"

His cock slid inside you in a way that always felt so mind-numbingly perfect, like he was made to be there, to be yours. Jean let out a ferocious sound and buried into your swollen breasts. You moaned, deep, relieved, bucking your hips up to grind into him.

Jean resurfaced to connect your shining foreheads, once more. He reached down to cup your hips and drew out — pushing back inside with such concentration. He was being careful with you, he was handling you like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. You had become attuned to the monstrous power Jean Kirschtein housed in his toned body, honed from years of battling for his life. You had felt it. Even now, you could feel that hum under his skin — the strength he had used to fuck you against tables and walls, the marble tiling in the shower, the balcony in the deep hours of the night.

But now — he was a gentle, caring lover. He pulsed into you in at a steady pace. Both of you gasped each other's air. You clawed at him. His mouth dropped open to pant as he thrusted into you again, again, again.

When his movements started to become messier, less co-ordinated, did he reach down between the both of you and thrum his fingers against where you were most sensitive. You barked out a cry. The bed began to rock and whine with the force of your love-making.

"Come with me, [Name]." He growled against your shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart, come with me, come with me."

In a delirious haze of ecstasy, you nodded your head, again and again until the apex of your pleasure crested and swelled. Your nails dug into his skin. Jean's breaths quickened until they became choked, gasping moans, and his release smashed into him. You fell, too, crashing through the wall of ecstasy with him until all you knew were his body and his scent and the clasping of his be-ringed hand in yours.

It was all he had ever wanted.

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 1

satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto

next

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 !! pls don’t tho <3

cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent 😞 ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys 🥰

exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??

a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33

some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)

- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.

- takes place 2 years after their breakup (mc | satoru)

- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.

- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him

- NOTTT really real life accurate 🥰

Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you would’ve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).

Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that could’ve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguru’s been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.

You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. “Y/N!” his voice had drawn Suguru’s eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.

Now, you and Gojo hadn’t had a horrendous break-up (although it’s after affects on you weren’t quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadn’t included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.

It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person you’d expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Geto’s work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.

Geto’s brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then

“Hi.” slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasn’t to late to run out yet.

“Y/N? I heard lots about you” Suguru’s voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. “Good things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?” His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.

I wanna go home

©sugusoneandonly 2024

next

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Waiting for them to do another episode about the hot firefighter calendar. Specifically focusing on how supportive Buck is of Eddie, so much so that he insists on not entering the contest and also taking all of Eddie’s pictures this time around.

Of course, Eddie tells him No, you’re not going to not enter just because you think if you do I’ll lose, asshole. But he still allows Buck to take his pictures just to make him feel better.

So they do the photo shoot, and Buck makes sure to get all the right angles while cheering him on with constant, “Come on, take off the shirt, eight pack. Don’t be shy… Amazing, you’re a natural… God, Eddie, you’re going to make all the ladies go crazy…” and Eddie does the same for Buck, cheering him on and making him flush unphotogenic shades of red from the praise.

And after it’s all over, Eddie promises to sort through the pictures on his phone and send them to him later.

During their next shift, Buck walks into the station , eyes catching on Eddie pulling his shirt over his head, and Buck feels a familiar sensation in his gut and for some reason the song Whatta Man rings through his head.

But what truly gets to him is later, while he’s in the gym with Eddie, Chimney interrupts their workout to ask how their photos turned out. At this point, neither of them have seen the pictures because after taking them, they had gotten lost in talking about random stuff then watched a movie that was so long, Buck ended up crashing on the couch.

When Eddie pulls up the photos and starts scrolling through, Buck gets a sense of deja vu and then is hit with a sudden raw wave of jealousy, as intense as it was when he first met Eddie.

Only… that’s not jealousy. No, Buck knows himself better now.

That’s pure lust.

And Buck nearly about dies on the spot, but nobody notices because Chimney chooses that moment to clear his throat and awkwardly say, “Wow, those are… intimate.”

It’s only after he walks away that Buck can truly focus on the pictures and realize Chimney was right. The pictures are… extremely intimate. And maybe it’s morbid curiosity on both their parts, but Eddie keeps scrolling and Buck doesn’t stop him.

There’s one point where they both slightly gasp and have to ask who thought it was a good idea to take pictures of them kneeling, or biting their lip, or sprawled out on Eddie’s bed, or wearing wet, white tank tops, or… really the list goes on.

After one particular picture of Eddie that Buck is going to sear into his brain permanently, he can’t help but comment, “I’d definitely buy this calendar.”

After scrolling to the next picture which happens to be of Buck, Eddie replies, “Me too.”

They both silently agree that they can’t send any of the pictures in, and ultimately they’re happy when Ravi wins.

But in true Buck and Eddie fashion, they end up privately saving all the pictures, trying to convince themselves that it’s okay to find their best friend this hot and to stare at their pictures late at night.

(But don’t worry, Maddie ends up finding the pictures on Buck’s phone and gives him a harsh reality check.)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Villain's Festival 2024 - Roger Barel

This is one of two parts, though the second part's obtained through ranking.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Roger: I’ll just get to the point. Pick me.

Following Victor’s explanation of the contest for the bonus,

That was the first thing Roger said to me when he came to my room.

Kate: The rule was that I needed to pick the one that stole my heart, you know?

Roger: Yeah. But knowing you, you’re gonna feel guilty about who you didn’t choose, right? I’m gonna use the bonus money to study curses. One of these days, it’ll help the cursed ones. You shouldn’t feel guilty about giving the bonus to one guy if something comes out of it.

Kate: Got it. I'll consider it.

Roger: Only consider? Not gonna agree to it?

Kate: If I agree to it now, I would be doing a disservice to everyone else. I’ll take what you said into consideration, but the winner’s supposed to be the one that steals my heart.

I couldn’t just bend the rules because of guilt.

When I told Roger about my decision to be fair to everyone, he laughed.

Roger: Oh…? So the lil’ lady wants me to steal your heart?

Kate: T-that’s not what I meant! I just want to follow the rules!

Roger: Getting defensive just makes you sound all the more suspicious, ya know?

Kate: I’m not getting defensive…!

Roger: Sure, sure. Then I’ll follow the rules and steal your heart fair and square.

Better prepare yourself.

–

The next morning, as I was getting ready for the day, a knock sounded on my door.

Kate: Yes? Come in.

When I opened the door while wondering who was on the other side, maids filed into my room one after another.

They brought in a dress and accessories, and began to dress me up.

Kate: Huh? Um, I didn’t request this, so why…

The maids stopped me in my confused state and finished in a flash.

Kate: Wow…

I looked elegant and beautiful in the mirror, just like a noble lady.

(I went along with it, but these clothes look luxurious…?)

(Considering the timing, it's likely that this was prepared by someone in Crown for the bonus contest.)

Roger: Oh, you got dressed.

Kate: Roger?!

While I was thinking about this and that, Roger appeared behind me.

The maids left with smiles on their faces when they saw Roger.

Roger: I don’t know much about fashion so I told the store clerk what ya looked like and had him pick stuff out…

Roger blatantly looks at me up and down.

Roger: Mm, nice, isn’t it?

Kate: Had it picked out…So you prepared this for me, Roger? But why?

Roger: What’d I say? I’m gonna steal your heart.

Kate: Is that so… Thank you.

Roger: So, how is it?

Kate: It’s lovely! It’s comfortable to wear…Though I’m sorry that you have to do all this.

Roger: As long as you like it…then it’s worth it? Though I’m curious about this.

He points at my chest.

Kate: Wha…! Where are you looking?

Roger: No, I’m not staring at your breasts! The neckline! Look at the design here.

Kate: You’re right…The design around the neckline is rather conservative.

Roger: I heard they left it bare like that for a brooch. I just so “happened” to forgot to buy some stuff, so let’s go shopping together.

I’m sure Roger’s lying about that.

(I can’t believe he has the audacity to make that up as an excuse to go on a date…)

(Roger’s familiar with these kinds of tricks, isn’t he?)

Roger: …What’s up?

Kate: N-nothing.

Roger: Really? Thought I saw something like disgust for a moment on your face there.

(I…can’t say that Roger’s experience with women doesn’t bother me in the slightest)

Kate: I was just contemplating on buying the most expensive thing in the store…

Roger: Why not? I’ll get ya whatever you want, even if it’s expensive.

Kate: O-okay… No take backs!

Roger’s generosity and experience with women had me feeling defeated…

We left and headed out into town.

[xuchiya]

barbie and the fashion fairytale [k.hongjoong]

barbie m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

[Author: I used to be part of a pageant or contest so writing this one brought nostalgic and I included one of my answers here during the Q&A as an inspiration for all of you. It's the one in Italic hehet!]

   As the Paris air crackled with anticipation in the grand hall of the Palais Galliera, you stared past through the high ceiling-windows of your room, just above your studio, highly strung. You were one of the designers— not yet popular but you had gained numerous audiences and had grabbed the attention of a few famous designers that included the very famous Prince of Balmain– Kim Hong joong. Incredibly, he is one of the best fashion creators in Asia and obtained the title of the ‘King of Fashion’.

“Oh my dear, please stop biting your nails.” Your sunbae at work, smack your hand gently as she pushes you to sit down on your plush bed. You sigh, unknowingly doing your habit out of nervousness. It is your dream to be recognized but presenting your art is never part of that dream, hence walking down the runway with your most proud work. 

You turn to her, “How can I not?! I’m gonna be there at Palais Galliera in 2 hours and my shit is not piecing together if I tell myself to calm down!” The thickness of your accent makes the argument commentable yet your sunbae approach you calmly as you suddenly stand up and walk back and forth. 

This time your hoobae walks in, poking his head in the door, “Uh sunbae— our call is here.” Your breath hitch, heart suddenly dropping down to your stomach as you felt your skin turn cold from the flashes of cameras and voices from the journalist. Your social anxiety is shaking to the core. That is, you felt a hand on your shoulder and a gentle squeeze following, “I cannot tell you to forget the nervousness but I can only tell you that I am proud of you and how far you come from all the hard work and eyebags you've been through.” 

Your eyes trail on your sunbae, a smile creeping on your lips as the anxiety you were feeling disappears, “No one is more proud but me. I have seen, felt and encountered each of your journeys as a designer so put your shit together and let's go!” 

 The conversation ended with you being pulled in a hug, a hand on the back of your head, “It will be okay dear…” Instantly, you relax under her comfort and nod.

  Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow on the eager crowd, a sea of bobbing heads and expectant murmurs. Hongjoong, his heart a hummingbird in his chest, adjusted the crisp black bowtie at his throat, even if he is the event-holder of the fashion show, tonight was the culmination of years of relentless work, sleepless nights, and unwavering passion of each designers that he came across this past months–nevertheless to say, he had encountered one of the amazing creators of dresses and that is where Hongjoong met you.

Not only was he amazed about your designs, no no, he is amazed because of you. You were so breathtaking in his eyes that he bumped into the parking meter and spilled his coffee on his designer shirt yet he didn’t pay no mind to it. You were combined by heaven and his favourite cloth, bundled in so much elegance that he could be seen having heart eyes. 

He contacted your sunbae about your details and your past projects and was shocked to say the least that you gave up at least 18 of your most designs to other designers. Hongjoong asked for the designs’ hardcopy— stunned and disappointed— that you chose to give up such amazing designs because of your doubts and less motivated self. 

Kim Hongjoong, a young man from Seoul, is about to present a fashion designer’s debut collection at Paris Fashion Week – the first French-Korean designer to ever do so.

His gaze swept over the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the throng. His family, unable to make the trip from Korea, would be watching via livestream. But there was another face he yearned to see— yours.

 Weeks bled into months, filled with late-night brainstorming sessions fueled by strong coffee and cheap takeout. You became one of his designers under his company. He became your window into the world of high fashion, his passion infectious and encouraging you to do more in fashion. A silent understanding bloomed between you, a shared dream woven into the fabric of his collection.

As the spotlights hit the runway, Hongjoong took a deep breath. The first model emerged, a vision in a hanbok reimagined for the modern world, the fabric a breathtaking fusion of traditional silk and French lace. Each piece that followed was a testament to his journey, a bridge between two cultures he called home.

As  your models were lining up on the stage, your eyes widened in realisation upon seeing the familiar dresses on their body. You hurry towards one of the staff, “Where did you get these dresses, ma’am?” 

The kind lady smiles at you whilst rolling the lint on the dress, “Sir Hongjoong returned to Paris 3 days ago after his trip back in Korea with these wonderful dresses.” 

   Your eyes met him from across the room, shining with pride and something more, a warmth that sent a jolt through him as he watched your models walk down the runway—wearing your old project designs along with your new designs showing off your tradition’s clothing merged with modern style. As the final model strutted down the runway, the applause was thunderous as you were called in to present yourself. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of relief and exhilaration. Standing in the runway with your models wearing your designs with thousands of people appreciating your hard works.

You look over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of your hoobae and your sunbae with tears in their eyes, your sunbae mouthing you 'I'm proud of you'.

Tears of joy came down your cheek to which one of your models softly wipe it making you chuckle. Hongjoong, part of the audience, felt a swarm of satisfaction and felt a pat on his shoulder as his plan went well.

He had made your dreams come true.

Later, amidst the post-show chaos, he finally found you. You threw your arms around him, the scent of your lavender perfume a familiar comfort, shocking other staff and designers so does the man that was frozen from your warmth. "It was incredible, Hongjoong! We did it!" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, his body soon relaxes, pulling you close. "You did it," he corrected, his gaze lingering on your lips then back to your gleaming eyes.

Hongjoong wanted you to see your worth, your ability and skills. He wanted you to be proud of what you have done, whether it be a small or big achievement so he hopped on his private plane to take them back as the majority of the dresses were under the name of his clients back in Korea. 

  Hongjoong wanted your inner little girl full of dreams to let the woman you are today achieve it.

  In that electric moment, under the glittering Parisian sky, the unspoken desire between you blossomed. The city of love had woven its magic, uniting a dreamer and his muse, their love story a beautiful tapestry woven from passion, perseverance, and a touch of Parisian elegance.

Taglist: @binchanluvrr

[darklyndivinely]

I punctured the abscess through abandonment

Fandom - Obey Me!

Pairing - Lucifer x Diavolo

Summary - "Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time."

Warnings - SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, fluff, copious amounts of random shit.

Wordcount - 5k+

A/N - title from the english translation of this song. I've been working on this for ages. Dialuci is so exciting to me, the angst potential is endless. I hope it comes through here, because it's important to remember: for Lucifer, his family is above all, even his own happiness. Please do comment and tell me what y'all thought!!

Here's a beautiful rendition of the last scene done by @pseudonymphomania.

Read on AO3 • OM!Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Lucifer! Masterlist

It’s one of those days.

Black rain pours over Devildom. The sky, a churning thing of anger, had cracked open yesterday as he had succumbed to sleep. Some fourteen hours later, it was still in mourning.

Lucifer doesn’t mind.

Such forceful displays of nature, he’s found, cast a film of translucent languor over everything. His mind which is usually stretched thin with a million worries folds upon itself, over and over, until it occupies but a little square of space. All that exists then is the stubborn rain, the wailing of trees as they bow to the angry winds, and the soft ticks of his table clock.

Lucifer presses his forehead to the chilled glass of one of the windows. In and out, he breathes, his eyes shut and mind blank. A repose of quietude. He savours it, trying to document all the ridges of the calmness in his body, knowing that when it leaves, its departure will be long and hard to bear.

There’s a council meeting scheduled at four. He departs for it slowly, knowing that it won’t start till four twenty because tardiness is a vicious illness that his brothers have never been able to defeat. True to form, the last to arrive, Satan and Asmo, twelve minutes late, cite some ineludible mishap in the library. For a second Lucifer considers chiding them, becoming caught up in old habits, before reason returns and he puts halt to the achingly familiar words halfway up his throat. He knows if they escape today the sanctity of this beautiful day would become lost to him. So he gulps down a glass of cold water instead and lets it go.

“Where’s Mammon?” asks Asmo as he settles, eyes drawn to the only vacant seat now.

Mammon hadn’t been present for breakfast either. Lucifer had assumed he’d been summoned by his witches again. “He’ll be caught up. Let us begin now.”

For the next two hours, they discuss the many matters of importance around RAD. Vacant staff positions, complaints against faculty members, how to budget the million year-round events without compromising quality, and ideas for new events as well. Around the ninety-minute mark, the agenda gets lost somewhere within the frothing depths of the river Styx.

Between “A food contest where the winner cooks for me for the rest of their life,” and, “A fashion show where everyone writes a five-hundred word essay about my beauty and throws bouquets of pretty—” and Leviathan’s separate ongoing detailed verbal presentation about the cultural significance of some film adaptation of a novel that he believes all of RAD should come together and watch, Lucifer finds himself feeling some deep, ancient rot taking hold of his brain.

Diavolo’s well of patience, as it turns out, is infinite. His countenance is kind and sympathetic. 

Lucifer’s is not. 

He ends the meeting, his fist bunched around an eraser, barely holding himself back from lobbing it straight down Leviathan’s throat, and sends them all packing.

“Back by 11,” he says, easing back in his chair, “or Cerberus has free reign of your room.”

Diavolo chuckles beside him, refreshing their glasses with water. An easy smile slides onto his lips as the room empties. “Barbatos called,” he says, waving the doors shut with a flick of the wrist.

Lucifer hums, wiping the condensation off his glass and presses it to his temple, some of this morning’s calmness returning to him. “Contracts?”

“No, not yet. He’s happened upon Mammon’s witches. They run a bar in a nearby town that daylights as their hideout. Wonderful spot apparently; excellent mingling of the ley lines.”

“Was he there?”

Diavolo takes a sip of his water, shaking his head. “At a bar, five blocks over. Drunk as a fiddle.”

“Naturally.” Lucifer sighs, feeling the sudden urge to bang his head against a solid surface, preferably the sturdy pine table beneath him. “I apologise for his behaviour. Is Barbatos to return then?”

Diavolo’s lips quirk in a half-smirk, one Lucifer has learned follows a particularly amusing thought. “No. He insisted on staying to keep an eye out. He’ll ring in when Mammon departs for home.”

“Good,” he replies. “I will look over today’s notes and we’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Diavolo nods, a sudden shine to his supermoon eyes. “Tomorrow then. Have a good night, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tips his head and says, “Goodnight, Diavolo.”

Mammon returns at half-past three that night, slipping through the garage doors straight into his room. Lucifer snaps his novel shut, does a last check on the barrier, and clocks out.

He’s awoken the next morning by a great racket of noise. He’s barely pulled his other pillow over his ears, the fear that the lot may have started a fire in the stove again being swept under the heaviness of slipping dreams, before there is a strong panicked rapping against his door and his sleep takes departure like a startled flock of ravens. He presses a prolonged expletive into his pillowcase and gets up.

Turns out, he’d missed breakfast. And when Asmo had gone to store the leftovers he’d discovered that the fridge wasn’t cooling anymore. Of course, in true menace behaviour, he’d complained about it loudly first before waking Lucifer up. So now Lucifer’s got a panicked Beel on his hands who is now worried for his recently bought cupcakes.

“They’re Madam Scream’s’, Lucifer! Poisoned hellberries and roasted creme! They won’t last two hours in this humidity. You have to do something!”

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose and sends the younger to heat all the leftovers in the oven. Is that working or does that also need a mass panic? Then he heads to his room for his phone and makes a call to Electric Demon, scheduling a home visit within the next hour. A shower sounds tempting but the food would go cold again, and Lucifer is a firm believer that heating leftovers more than once is a crime against one’s taste buds. He does his morning routine sans a shower and changes into a plain blue t-shirt and track pants.

Beel doesn’t seem sufficiently satisfied when Lucifer tells him that a technician is on his way. He stands awkwardly by the fridge in the kitchen, a cupcake box in hand and a frown on his face. Lucifer watches him from the dining table for a while, then, fed up, says, “Just open it already!”

Beel startles, turning to look at him. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! Open it or I’ll open it for you!”

Beel’s frown deepens. But he comes to sit at the dining table and begins to bite into his cupcakes with a focus that is perhaps a bit too much than the task demands. It’s all kind of adorable though and it eases a bit of Lucifer’s annoyance at the day’s bad start.

“Did Mammon come down for breakfast today?”

Beel shakes his head. He looks up suddenly, mouth full, his tangerine eyes fixing on Lucifer’s as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. Then looking as if in extreme pain, he slides the cupcake box towards Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckles and considers pretending to pluck one just for the fun of it all. He would have any other day, but he doesn’t. Not today. He slides the box back with a polite decline. Beel passes him a smile and digs into his food with more fervour. Lucifer resists the urge to ruffle his hair and leaves him to his sweets.

In the kitchen, Lucifer plates all the leftover food and casts a mild heating spell upon it. He takes it upstairs to Mammon’s room. It’s messy as always: clothes flung around, shoes discarded at the bottom of the staircase. Lucifer leaves the plate on the centre table. Mammon is sprawled on the bed in his briefs, his jeans a dark tangle on the floor. Beside it, there’s a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Lucifer toes at it, grimacing, knowing without a look that it’s one of those cheap, low-quality soft-packs. Standards were truly becoming non-existent nowadays.

The doorbell rings downstairs.

“Lucifer!” Beel shouts.

He sighs. I’ll check in later, he vows, heading off.

Later, however, doesn’t roll around until late that evening. Diavolo calls him up after the technician leaves.

“When are you coming over?” the prince says, straight to the point.

Lucifer considers his options. He could postpone, spend a lazy Sunday in the library and practise a tune or two at the piano. There’d be stacks of papers on his table tomorrow anyway, they’ll stay late at RAD and squeezing in their discussion wouldn’t be too big a hassle. However, it’s a nice day off and the prospect of being holed up in the library doesn’t seem so appealing anymore. He would much rather chase a pair of golden eyes.

“Soon,” Lucifer says.

“I just got a great idea for Barbatos’ gift,” Diavolo says the second Lucifer is within his sight. The prince is clad in a tight black t-shirt and loose grey pyjama with a pot of tea in his hands. Lucifer hums and takes a seat at the dining table, setting the file he’d brought over at the corner. Diavolo pours the tea into two cups. A subtle earthy smell wafts up in the steam. Fireweed, Lucifer recognizes. One of Barbatos’ own creations. He’d probably left a bunch of it behind for Diavolo to peruse.

“How many cups of this are you drinking a day?” Lucifer asks, taking a sip.

Diavolo’s forehead scrunches with a whine and he slumps into his seat. “Too much! I’m afraid I might be addicted at this point.”

Lucifer smiles around his cup. Trust Diavolo to become addicted to tea. “What is this idea then?”

The prince perks up and sets his cup down neatly. He takes out a small, brown drawstring pouch from his pocket. “Do you remember Ring 3’s Great Purge?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. Nearly a million casualties.”

“Yes, that. There was a witch then, injured and hanging onto life in the Abyss by a single tree branch. I saved her and in return she gave me this pouch. Rare seeds of a flower that grows beneath the deep depths of the seas, she’d said.”

Diavolo spills the seeds onto his palms. Brown and dry. Entirely unremarkable.

“They might grow here,” he says, rifling the seeds gently with a finger. “And if not then perhaps they might blossom in the greenhouse, in a more controlled environment.”

“The Abyss is quite far away from the stadium. What was she doing there?”

“She wasn’t there for the tournament. She’d snuck in.” Diavolo pours the seeds back into the pouch and draws it shut. “Her niece had married a vampire from Ring 3 and was being abused. She wanted to rescue her. A very messy business, really.”

“Did she succeed?”

“He was rich, she was not. But yes. After a long court case. I delivered the judgement myself.”

Lucifer watches him, sipping at his tea. “It is a good gift, indeed.”

Diavolo smiles at him, a soft steady thing that makes Lucifer’s chest tighten. “What about you? What are you giving him?”

“I do not know.” Lucifer hadn’t even thought of it yet. “Any suggestions?”

Diavolo looks thoughtful, sipping solemnly at his tea. “Music, perhaps. He’s been in a slump lately. I haven’t seen him with headphones in a while.”

Lucifer hums. “Has he found the man yet?”

“Yesterday. But he’s demanded a day to think it over.”

“I highly doubt he’d be willing to forfeit his life when the alternative is so beneficial.”

“Beneficial!” Diavolo laughs sharply. “I plan to wring him dry to the bones.”

Lucifer smirks. “I would hope so.”

Diavolo eyes the file Lucifer had brought over. He stretches a hand to slide it closer and flips it open. “What have you decided?”

“Art and Psychology clubs,” Lucifer says. “Negligible dent in the budget.”

“A new hire?” Diavolo reads off the file.

“Part-time, but someone passionate and willing. I was hoping the Art club might focus more on polishing rather than teaching.”

“Hmm.” Diavolo closes the file and stands. “I will read it later. Are you perhaps done with that?” he asks, eyeing Lucifer’s cup. “I’m all stiff from sitting here.”

Lucifer gulps down the last of his cold tea and follows suit. He collects their cups and the pot, sets them in the sink and washes his hands. When he turns Diavolo is halfway across the kitchen, and he gestures at Lucifer to follow.

Diavolo’s room is halfway across the castle, obscured by the many turns into many indistinguishable hallways leading to it. The prince walks five steps ahead of him. Lucifer doesn’t bother to catch up. The length of the journey seems entirely too short for the view his position grants him. Then another turn and the sight of the familiar room.

The moment Lucifer has crossed the threshold, Diavolo is on him. There are two soft clicks behind him. A sudden arm around his waist and a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Diavolo presses him backwards into the now-closed door and melds their mouths together.

“I missed you,” Diavolo whispers against his lips.

Lucifer tightens his grip around Diavolo’s nape, the tightness in his chest dissolving in a sudden surge, and pulls the man into a feverish, bruising kiss. Diavolo moans into his mouth, a soft, needy sound, and presses even closer. He rucks up the back of Lucifer’s shirt. His fingers as they press into the small of Lucifer’s back are warm from the tea. The shape of his hand, his arm, his hips as they grind against Lucifer’s, their lips pressed together and Diavolo’s tongue licking into his mouth. It all seems so deliberate, so calculated—as if Lucifer’s body had been given shape with Diavolo in mind. It leaves him breathless and gasping, unmoored and full of want.

He pushes off of the door, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Diavolo’s mouth exactly the way he likes, and manoeuvres their entangled figures backwards. When he pushes him onto the bed the prince goes easily, pliable with desire, heaving, golden laser eyes set upon him. Lucifer climbs on top of him. He traces a light touch up the side of Diavolo’s hips, over his pants, along the hem of the shirt, closer, closer. Diavolo’s breath quickens, his fingers digging into the mattress. Lucifer presses the heel of his hand against Diavolo’s crotch. The prince arches off the bed. Lucifer smirks.

He leaves late that evening. There’s a burn to his body that leaves a delicate trilling in his chest. He hugs Diavolo goodbye at the gate, presses his nose into his hair and breathes. Dangerous, a grainy echo in the back of his mind says. But his brain is addled, his body loose, with moonshine sheltering them from reality under her silver cape. Diavolo cradles his face between his hands and kisses him softly. Neither of them says anything.

The whole family is sprawled around the TV when he gets back. Mammon sits on the floor with a blushing Beel, teasing him about some tasty flying burger. He looks up as Lucifer walks in.

“Do you have a headache?” Lucifer pulls out the painkiller he’d picked up at the castle. “Take this.”

“Wha—I don’t have a headache.”

“Take it. Now.” On the table, there is a half-empty bottle of cola and several glasses. Lucifer picks up the closest to Mammon’s. “Is this yours?” 

Mammon nods, looking fed-up, and takes the glass from his hands. Lucifer watches him swallow the pill then nods. “Who’s making dinner?”

“I am,” Satan says, cracking his neck and getting up. “Levi, you have this downloaded, right? Send it to me, I’ll finish it later.”

“Do you need any help?” Lucifer asks.

“No!” Satan shoots him a disgusted look and hurries away to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Lucifer smothers a smile. The film playing on the tv is strange. A donut-shaped black hole and googly eyes to the rescue. A little intrigued, Lucifer watches for a while, unable to let go of his want for a shower to properly take a seat. Nobody asks him where he’s been. It’s not like he ever answers when it’s those days with Diavolo. 

Then, naturally, Asmo walks in. His hair is wet, there’s a sheen to his skin, and he brings in the scent of strawberry body wash with himself. Appearing a little distracted with his mildly uncooperating hair he’s halfway into the room before he catches sight of Lucifer. He stops short then, his champagne eyes connecting with Lucifer’s. He tracks a slow look over the length of Lucifer’s form. A queer leer overcomes his eyes. Lucifer’s mood plummets.

“Hello, Lucifer…” Asmo coos, uncooperating hair forgotten now. “What naughty things have you been upto today, hmm?”

Acid froths in Lucifer’s stomach. Scorpions. Lucifer will have scorpions dig out all of Asmo’s hair, strand by strand by strand. And then he will set that fucking strawberry body wash on fire. Recognising a losing battle when he sees one, though, Lucifer shoulders past the younger to his room, even though the action almost brings him physical pain. His ears ring and there’s a stubborn itch to his hands. It’s only the thought of a familiar pair of lips on his neck that placates his more murderous desires. Still, scorpions and the death of many fruit-flavoured body washes.

The rain dries up. Time resumes its steady pace. Three weeks pass. Lucifer spends his days at RAD; most nights in his room on video calls with Diavolo doing paperwork. Asmo doesn’t do more than trail conspicuous looks over him on Sunday evenings after Lucifer had pulled him aside the first week and growled his serious scorpion-related threat into his face.

On Saturdays, he coerces the whole family into an outing together. First week it’s a museum (Satan), second it’s a Starlets Heart concert (Levi), third it’s a new Sushi restaurant downtown (Beel). Two days before the fourth Saturday, the house bill arrives, falling a wide margin below the budget. In a good mood, he takes them to a flea market and lets them loose. They come back heaving bags of books, two dozen DVDs and cassettes, a carefully wrapped artisan table lamp, and many small plastic bags of poison noodles that Lucifer swears he wouldn’t touch if House of Lamentation’s roof itself were crashing down upon him.

On his part, he buys a shimmering golden keychain of a cat for Mammon. He spots another in green and buys that for Satan. Most of his time, however, is spent at the vinyl shop thumbing through their metal collection. 

“Something less known,” he tells the shopkeeper, “and heavy, if you will.” 

The man plucks forth many, first from the newer section then older, but none feel right. The gut feeling that he gets, that tilting sensation in his stomach at the precise pick remains absent. He pays for a collection of classical sitar pieces and a pop one that Asmo swears an oath for on his “beautiful and lustrous hair that demons kill for”.

“If I end up disliking it, I’ll cut two centimetres off of them then.”

Asmo gasps. He touches his hand to his chest in faux outrage and scurries off. Lucifer laughs and follows. On the way back, they stop the car at AkuDonald’s and get takeout. Then ditch the plan to eat at home when Beel breaks and starts breezing through his dozen burgers with big bites. He tells Mammon to park beside a decent food truck. They order more food for Beel, open the doors, switch on the light and eat in the car. Like a big chaotic family. Levi drops a couple drops of his drink on the seat. Mammon complains his head off. It’s nice. He hopes they do this again sometime.

Later at night, after he’s sure all of them have fallen asleep, he sneaks out to meet Diavolo at the castle. For a second he freezes, puzzled at his own actions. Sneaking out of his own house in the middle of the night like some lowly thief, is that what he’d come to now? But then he drops down onto the castle grounds, Diavolo catches sight of him through the kitchen window, and his eyes light up with sunshine. He presses a long kiss to Lucifer’s lips when they meet. All the embarrassment in the world then seems worth it in the face of such beauty.

They set up the record player in the living room and sprawl on the sofa with glasses of ice-cold hellberry Demonus. Asmo’s album ends up being a hit. Diavolo laughs when Lucifer pretends to pout about his missed opportunity at playing barber. For the last song, a gentle and sombre tune, Diavolo pulls him upright and insists they dance.

“Are you mad?” Lucifer asks rhetorically. Drunk and mobile was not a good combination, not even in the face of such good music.

“Come on,” Dia pleads. “For me?” 

His eyes are pools of drunken affection, his lips flushed from the Demonus. Lucifer melts. He pulls him closer and spins their entwined figures around the furniture. Diavolo presses a kiss to the side of his jugular and rests his forehead on his shoulder.

I love you.

The thought is soft, akin to the whisper of rain that mists the winds at the dawn of monsoon. A tide—lapping, curling, rising, sinking. It flows over him, instilling a slow, deep shock onto him. Love? But—

Diavolo raises his head. His eyes are kaleidoscopes of black and gold. His carmine hair, a riot on his head. He nudges their foreheads together, a loose smile on his lips. They continue to sway to the music.

The long notes of the violin, the delicate tinkling of the ganzá, the shrill and strong vocals of the choir. The music soothes the anxiety that Lucifer might have experienced if the revelation had come to him in private. Here, with candlelight casting darkness into the slopes of Diavolo’s face, their bodies pressed together, hearts and feet in sync, the thrum of Demonus in his veins loosening the bolts of the closed doors of his heart, Lucifer could almost give name to the feeling that scented the air around them.

Like home had inhabited a body and become a person.

Like he might have fallen in love.

Lucifer’s eyesight blurs. He tightens his hold around Diavolo’s waist.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Black moon Halloween, Diavolo’s birthday, some couple hundred years ago now, he’d gotten drunk. The alcohol had always flowed without inhibitions, but that day Lucifer had indulged without restraint. Why he had done so he struggled to remember now. The prince had booked the whole club for a more private celebration. That was the first time they’d danced together, to some pop-rock song that had come up and Lucifer had been too intoxicated to remember to keep his personal interests to himself. 

“I like this,” he remembered saying.

Diavolo had immediately suggested dancing, perhaps excited to see him excited, and Lucifer had agreed without hesitation, already up and moving. The lights had been dim, navy blue and familiar. There was a moment, a still of the night in his mind, of Diavolo with flashing blue on his skin, eyes bright with joy, smile so wide and toothed Lucifer had been left utterly mesmerised. Golden.

You absolute fucki—

Diavolo presses a kiss to his lips. His thumb rubs indiscernible circles over the exposed skin of his forearm. Lucifer’s thoughts trip. The music has stopped. Silence reigns. The low crackle of the fire is barely audible. They are still wrapped up together. Reality is starting to loom over Lucifer, his heartbeat rising in his chest. Diavolo stares at him with hooded eyes, more smart than anyone ever gives him credit for. Seeking, searching, asking.

He should have known that this beautiful man who loved waking up at pretentious hours to go jogging and got excited at the prospect of paintball would be the one Lucifer would end up surrendering his heart to. He should have fucking known.

Lucifer tilts his chin and kisses him, gentle and unhurried. He pours into it all his emotions, nameless and gargantuan, trying to spell all the words that never make it past his throat. There’s always so many of them.

Diavolo smiles against his lips. He whispers something but Lucifer doesn’t catch it. He’s busy tracing the incline of the other’s cheekbones with his fingers, the flesh of his cheek, the curve of his ears, the sharp of his jawline. There’s an urgent need budding inside him, to savour, to consume, to take and perhaps, perhaps keep as well. It slithers through his body, golden and ablaze, and takes root somewhere deep, deep within him. Dia kisses him greedily, reflecting and reciprocating tenfold. His hands, looped around Lucifer’s waist, slide lower to cup his arse and grind their hips together. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer gasps against Diavolo’s grinning mouth.

They stumble over the little side table and fall onto the sofa. There are strings of saliva between their lips, teeth clacking, nails scraping against scalps.

Lucifer tears his hands through Diavolo’s tight shirt and presses his lips to the feverish skin. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Lucifer wants to fuse into him; crack his skin and bathe in him; meld their souls and mouths together for eternity. He wants to reach out, beyond skin and sinew, and press his lips straight to his heart.

He pulls him closer then; infinitely, impossibly closer. If he didn’t, he might disappear, his prince, his home. Like Lilith did, for forever.

Hold him, the deep grief in his body sings, tender and mournful like moonlight as he makes love to his prince, as long as your touch doesn’t scar him. Like it has everything else.

It is late morning when Lucifer awakes. The air is scented with hell jasmine and grapefruit. Diavolo lays asleep beside him on his stomach, a curved elbow obscuring half his face. Lucifer watches him, the red of his hair against the dark covers, the folds of skin at his neck, the gold-tipped horns, and the folded-back wings.

They’d never fucked through the night before. Even on days when they lost track of time, Lucifer would always leave. But last night something tangible had been shattered. A thread that he had been holding onto so desperately had slipped from his grip. The thought of leaving had never occurred to him during the entirety of yesternight. All he’d wanted was to touch Diavolo and employ his mouth over every dip and rise of his body. He’d wanted to feel him and breathe him and hear his own name slip from his swollen lips like fog in winters. He had scooped himself hollow and poured it over the other’s body.

Diavolo’s eyes flutter once, twice, then peel open, golden and hazy, a thousand miles away yet so near.

They hadn’t just fucked last night. They had made love.

Now as Lucifer watches the sleep desert Diavolo’s eyes slowly, a sour, putrid feeling corrugates in his gut. What had he done? He knew better than this; knew better than to hope for a happy ending. The arrows of grief hope hid underneath its veil, he knew them intimately. What could he say?

Today as you look at me with eyes warm and gentle, all I can give thought to is the control you possess over me. My sister was murdered and I’m bound to you for eternity. I feel infinitely more myself with you. Do you love me because you can control me or is this connection between us real? Your presence stabilises my being. I’ve known you for so long now but my wounds have never healed. I love you. I fear the power you possess over my family.

Lucifer stumbles out of bed. His vision swims. His heart beats deafeningly in his ears. The air tastes like torn-up soil and rotten feathers. There’s a moon over his head and his sister’s blood is on his hands. He reaches out to grasp the armrest of the sofa, steadies himself. Chesterfield. Striped. His hands will leave behind a bloody imprint on it. One more thing he’s ruined now. One more apology to make. One more guilt to carry. Breathe. His eyes open. He’s naked. Disgust makes his knees shake.

A warm hand settles over his spine. Lucifer flinches away. Diavolo freezes. “Don’t!” Lucifer growls out, his throat aching. Hollow eyes. Beautiful; dying. She’s choking on blood. What have you done? He has to save her, he has to protect—

“Lucifer, what’s wrong? Where are you—”

He stomps his way out. Every step makes his body quiver; a barbed knot in his sternum that paints his insides charcoal. It is only his memory and sense of direction that leads him to the living room. Their clothes are strewn around from last night. Lucifer switches into his human form and dons his. After a moment, Diavolo pads in behind him, dressed in plain white briefs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” Lucifer says, slipping into his shoes and zipping up his pants.

Diavolo clasps onto his arm. “What is it? Was it something I did? Or said? Tell me, Lucifer!”

Lucifer looks at him. There is puffiness beneath the other’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before. By the bridge of his nose, there is a tiny spot, a budding pimple. On his jaw, Lucifer can see the traces of slight stubble. All he wants at that moment is to kiss him.

“We won’t be seeing each other again,” he says, holding eyes with the prince.

A crack appears across Diavolo’s face. He’s so clever, so magnificent. Better than the most soothing symphonies and stronger than the hardest of rains. Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time. Diavolo searches his face, his beautiful eyes fraught with despair, glistening. “I thought you wanted this,” he says.

Lucifer pulls away, his heart breaking. “I thought so too.”

Diavolo doesn’t stop him again.

Lucifer leaves.

[greycaelum]

Hi! Could you maybe make something protective Satoru-like? Maybe the reader is bothered by some drunken while coming back home?

Overall just angsty-fluff with comfort. Your style of writing is really to my liking and I've been thinking of taking a request for a while. I hope its not too much ❤️

Kaleidoscope Series—Love Me Now, Love Me Never Chapters: { Tipsy }

—Gojo Satoru X Sorcerer Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

"You sure you don't need me to drive and pick you up later? It's a den full of wolves." Satoru crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe as he watch you wear the Jimmy Choo black pumps fitting your Friday night fashion for a girl's night out. "Satoru, baby. You don't know how to drive." You looked at him and sighed. "Y'know I don't need to drive, I can just whisk you away in a second back to bed!" He gasps dramatically and argued.

𑁍 Genre: mild angst to comfort, sfw (mild suggestive content)

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.3k)—/ alcohol, suggestive violence (not towards reader), the reader being bothered in the club—/

𑁍 A/N: Hi sweetheart, I hope you like this one. Drunk trope isn't my forte but it was fun writing this, better late than never —Grey,

Having a Gojo Satoru as a boyfriend means there's often a 6'3 giant lurking around you. Or if he's unavailable, undoubtedly one of his subordinates is tailing you in the shadows. It's a compromise you both reached knowing your lover has many enemies and it's for your protection too. Satoru won't take it kindly if ever something to you. He will lose it.

"You sure you don't need me to drive and pick you up later? It's a den full of wolves." Satoru crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe as he watch you wear the Jimmy Choo black pumps fitting your Friday night fashion for a girl's night out.

"Satoru, baby. You don't know how to drive." You looked at him and sighed.

"Y'know I don't need to drive, I can just whisk you away in a second back to bed!" He gasps dramatically and argued.

You giggled and threw your arms around Satoru's neck. Satoru won't have to admit it, but you have him wrapped around your finger.

"Call me when you wanna come home, 'kay?"

"Okayyy~" 

That was the plan... Until Utahime started wailing about still having no prospects for marriage even at her age. Shoko is too busy having a drinking contest with herself and you... well, Satoru's lightweight tendencies must be rubbing on you. Just one glass of margarita and you can tell that you are already tipsy, two more shots and you knew that was enough for tonight.

"Mei-san can I leave the two of them to you? I'll go home, I'm feeling a little lightheaded."

"I don't mind. Should I call Gojo for you?"

"No need, I'll call him. See you around Mei-san."

You made your way through the bar. It's so loud with the full-blast speaker and people dancing on the stage, some are getting a little more frisky in the open.

Did Satoru also go through this kind as a teen? You know he doesn't drink but did he ever go to a bar too? Did he also make out with some random girls and do the deed? Did he also—?

The dark thoughts are suddenly attacking you from all directions.

"Hey Miss, you look so lonely, care to spend some time with me?" A tall guy approached you, just from his scent you could tell he was wasted.

"No, I'm on my way home. Don't bother me." You stumbled a little but managed to grab onto the nearest wall to support yourself. Damn, maybe you should've stayed home instead.

"Awee c'mon, going home?" hiccup "Your cat at home got no tuna or somethin'?"

Fuck, the liquor in your veins is starting to get dizzying.

"Her cat is actually a territorial one. Now, fuck off from my woman."

The familiar cool spicy scent overpowered the bitter taste of liquor surrounding you, your body collided with a hard chest and a hand over your shoulder guided you close to his side.

"Hey, hold on to me alright pretty girl? 'M gonna get us home in a second."

True to his words, you feel the ground melting from your feet and in a second landed back on the floor of your home. There's a faint aroma of the chicken noodles you love.

"Satoru..." A small whine like a child escaped your sealed lips. You don't have the energy to wash up or even take off your clothes. You just brought up your arms asking for a carry.

"Y'know, you're too spoiled." Satoru sighed and hugged you while your feet clumsily took off your black pumps and left them there.

Satoru watch his girl act like a baby, whiny and more needy than usual as he carried her to the sofa and brought the warm mug of noodle soup to her hands.

"I told you to call me. What if I didn't come?"

Satoru helps you take off your makeup and at the back, he's running the water in the tub for you. He wants to scold you but the sight of your hazy eyes and flush cheeks will only evoke something else other than anger in him.

"Liar..." You slurred. "You always come even if I don't call..."

It's the perks of having a sober man who is too protective to let you go in a den of wolves as he would often phrase it, and yet still supportive enough to let you go on a girl's night out.

You don't wanna get used to him being a superman in your life but he does show up at the split second before the pinch. And you can't help but be complacent at the thought Satoru will always be there to catch you. Selfish... You silently berated yourself and finished the second mug of soup.

You stared at Satoru who is now drying your hair after a quick bath you had. The thoughts from earlier came running back to you.

Satoru set down the blower and that's when you turn around and crawled between his legs, your noses hit as you took his glasses down and stare into his cerulean orbs.

"Babe... wanna get frisky with me?"

"B-Baby?" Satoru uncharacteristically stuttered at the sudden aggressiveness, but he easily recovered and look down at your plump lips that seems to invite him to take a bite.

"Uhmp!" You gasped and felt yourself being rolled into a burrito roll towards your side of the bed and Satoru patting your head before he drop a kiss on your forehead.

"Ask that question again when your sober, you drunkard." Satoru chuckled at your pout and frown.

"'m not a drunkard! Satoru you coward!" But no matter how you spite him Satoru merely shrugs and gently pats you to sleep.

He watches you murmur empty threats with that feisty mouth towards him while he hums and lets you tire yourself out with the liquor in your veins still making your thoughts fuzzy. He thinks you're really cute when you're drunk, and if he was a lesser man he doubts he'll have the strength not to rail you all night.

But Satoru doesn't like the thought of doing it when you're barely sober to give him decent permission. So he painfully stuffs a pillow between the two of you while you're rolled in the blanket as he shushes you to sleep.

The next day, you woke up almost rolling down the bed to free yourself from the blanket. Satoru was already downstairs. He looks at you with a knowing smirk as you approach him for a morning hug and kiss.

"Hey, ask me the question again, Baby." Satoru hugged you as if he could press you any closer to him when even a thread can't pass between the two of you.

You could feel the fast beating of his heart against your chest.

"... What question 'Toru?" You pat his back and look at him. Did you ask something weird last night?

"..." Satoru stopped swaying you and frowns before running his hand over his face.

"Eh? Did I do something while I'm drunk?" What's with his reaction? You tried going back to your memory but you can't remember anything more than him giving you chicken noodle soup.

"This is why I don't drink." Satoru huffs and pouts at you. You're hopeless when you're drunk. Satoru looks at your (his) clothes. His shirt looks oversized in your frame running down to your mid-thighs while your hair falls freely to your back, your legs are in his full view, plump and full to his touch while you wiggle your bare toes in the warm insulated flooring.

"Hey Baby... wanna get frisky with me?" He rasped, tipsy with you.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[postive-td-takes]

I like to headcanon that Ezekiel, due to not being allowed much of a social life, has befriended a lot of the animals both back on the farm and also on camp Wawanakwa. They can tell by his vibe that he's too dumb to really cause any harm, plus he's chill.

He finds them easier to understand and good listeners, especially when he begins to unlearn all the old-fashioned things his family taught him. Because of what he said during the first few episodes, he's not particularly popular around the other contestants, so he resorts to the one thing he's most familiar with.

NO IM NOT PROJECTING

I also headcanon that he just picks up animals like that one 'yoink' guy on tiktok

Just grabs them

Yoink

❤️‍🩹

[ultimate-themed-design]

The Ultimate Halloween Character Design Tournament

Please remember to vote for characters solely based on their design, rather than which character you are more familiar with or like more!

Skeletor | He-Man

“Citizens of Eternia and beyond! This Halloween, the time has come to cast your vote for a true leader of darkness, cunning, and style. Why choose a hero when you can stand behind the ultimate villain? Skeletor isn't just another spooky face—he's the embodiment of raw power, tactical genius, and skull-inspired fashion! Forget about those pitiful pretenders to the throne of Halloween. Only Skeletor can inspire fear, awe, and respect with a single sinister laugh. This contest needs a REAL champion of the night. Vote Skeletor for a Halloween that's truly terrifying! MWAHAHAHA!”

The Addams Family | The Addams Family

[No propaganda submitted]

[ninjaneonleon]

Arrival

Here's my little bit of propaganda for the @tmntaucompetition before we really get underway!

--------

Leo took a breath before looking around. The last thing he remembered was hanging out in Japan with his bros and everyone else, now he was… somewhere else. At least his brothers were here, and so was Yuichi, Casey, CJ, Mona, April and Juan. They seemed to be in some sort of arena that looked vaguely familiar. Had Leo been here before?

“Wait, I remember this place!” Mikey cried suddenly. “Remember when we met all those alternate dimension versions of ourselves? It’s like that!” It took a moment for Leo to remember. That’s right, he had met a lot of other versions of him, a lot of them very traumatised. He hadn’t known about the Kraang back then, hadn’t known why the older versions of himself had lost arms or looked so haunted. He didn’t get why a lot of them had cried and clung to his brothers like they were the most important people on earth. Well, that part he understood, but not the crying part. He understood now. He wished he didn’t. Idly he wondered what had happened to that older Leo and Mikey he had hung out with, Angelo and Leon they had called themselves. He hoped things were going well for them, they were cool. “Raph remembers now! How are we here again?” Raph asked, looking around. “Isn’t it obvious?” Donnie asked with a grin. He posed and sparkled. “Clearly we’re some of the more popular versions of our counterparts. We’re in some sort of competition because we’re clearly the best. And with our more complicated designs and fashionable accessories–” he flipped the edge of his shawl for emphasis. “We’re perfectly marketable and easily recognisable.” “You guys have been here before?” Yuichi asked, looking around in awe. “Wait, do you think there are other versions of me here? What about Momo and CJ? April? Juan?” “I know we’ve seen other versions of April,” Mikey said thoughtfully. “And there were older Leo’s so there has to be other CJs here too, and Caseys are a given. I dunno about Momos and Juans though, they seem pretty unique to our universe so far.” “Of course I’m a given, I’m Casey Jones!” Casey cried, posing with the hockey stick she somehow brought out of nowhere. “And naturally, I'm gonna be the coolest of all other Caseys!” “Well we won’t know that for sure until we talk to some people! You guys wait here, I’m gonna see if I can find our friends from before–” Leo cut himself off as he glanced around. “Wait, I see some! Hey! Gemini! It’s good to see you again!” The two turtle twins looked over in unison. They glanced around before walking over, with the alternate Leo giving a friendly wave and the alternate Donnie giving a polite nod. “It’s great to see you guys again too. Didn’t think we’d be back here again, things have gotten a little… restrictive recently,” Leo Gemini said. Leo flinched, remembering that these two had been raised by Big Mama in their universe. That was something Leo could relate to now. He wondered if that meant they’d have more in common now. “I can imagine. Anyway, it’s great to see you again Gemini. Gemini. Hopefully we don’t get our asses handed to us too badly by you guys again.” He gave the twins both a nod and a bright grin before they wandered off. Juan stayed plastered to Donnie’s side, but his eyes did follow after Gemini Donnie appreciatively. Leo suspected that his Donnie was about to get a little more hostile to the witchy soft shell. “They seemed nice,” Mona said, peering after them. She hadn’t let go of Raph or CJ’s hands since getting her bearings. “But they seemed strong. Hopefully we’re not against them in the first round…”

“Well, since we’re here, let’s look around. See if we can find any familiar faces and maybe make some new friends while we wait for everything to start,” Raph offered with a grin. He squeezed Mona’s hand. “After all, we dunno who we’re gonna be up against and what we’re doing. Let’s get comfy before we get too caught up in the contests.” “Sounds like a good idea, big guy,” April agreed with a nod. “Okay, listen up! We’ll make this corner our home base, we meet back here in one hour or when the next announcement comes out. Got it?” Everyone nodded. “Great, now go have fun, make some friends and let’s make sure to win this!”

-----------

Angelo and Leon are from our friend @newellthedragon

The lovely Gemini twins are from the always remarkable @tangledinink

[popculturebuffet]

Next up for Warner Bros Animation, favorite character from the 2002-08 half of the Kids WB shows with: Mucha Lucha, Ozzy & Drix, What's New Scooby Doo, Xiaolin Showdown, The Batman, Johnny Test (this oughta be interesting since it aired on three different networks with varying seasons of quality with seasons 1-3 premiering on Kids WB, seasons 4-6 being produced for Cartoon Network, and the revival seasons being produced for Netflix), Loonatics Unleashed, Tom & Jerry Tales, Shaggy & Scooby Doo Get a Clue, and Legion of Superheroes? I skipped Coconut Fred since everyone and their mother despises that show (one of the worst of all time).

Jesus Christ that's a lot. Also look given some past entires here, Coconut Fred is being kept on the grounds that it shoudn't be forgotten just for being horrible. like da boom crew which I thankfully haven't seen. So anyways..

Coconut Fred's Fruit Salad Island: I saw it at the time and it.. sure does exist. It's a half hearted spongebob ripoff. I'm talking about it because it did exist but don't have much else. Maybe I shoudl've left it out but i've let worse shows have an entry. This is just.. ntohing.

Mucha Lucha: IT'S A WAY OF LIFE! Senior Hasbena who just had a fun voice and a great early spotlight episode. The show itself is one I need to revisit but is awesome as hell, having a nice respect for luchadore culture while also being pretty nonsesically fun. While I would love a full on wrestling action series, this one was still good fun and needs ot be avaliable to stream in some fashion.

Ozzy and Drix: Drix if only because he was my faviorite in the movie. This series feels.. unecessary. It's not a bad idea but both frank's state at the start and Ozzie and Drix ending up elsewehere make it feel like the first film didn't matter and it feels weird to just.. not keep the setting. If they wanted kid plots, Frank has a daughter. That gripe aside the series was ... eh. Not terrible, but nothing really super special either.

Xiaolin Showdown: Jack Spicer. The boy, the myth the legend and Danny Cooksy's best role by a wide margin. A fun villian who was laughable enough to never get boring and stick around long after he'd been outclassed by newer big bads. Xiaolin Showdown is one of the best cartoons of this era, one of the best of this action show block and one of the best. I rewatched it in college and was amazed it held up so well. The show is genuine about our four heroes working, said four heroes while having familiar archetypes for the most part, are great characters who are a load of fun to watch and the format of the showdowns is engagin: while it does usually lead to some form of fight the contest format adds a nice wild card to it: our heroes can end up in a game where telling the truth is the only way out, a soccer match for OMi's soul, or a battle royale with all present. IT's a wonderful show I wish would get a proper revivial. And no Chronciles dosen't count, chronciles can go fuck itself.

The Batman: Another one to revisit and i'd say clayface as the twist of him being someone batman knew and trusted is utterly guttnig. I gave up on this one early for petty reasons depsite having most of the toys: I hated what they did with mr freeze and felt it couldn't compare to btas. Time has passed and with the later seasons adding some nice swerves i've accepted the show is it's own thing, trying to be a more action oriented shonen to forge it's own identity from the more moody btas. And it did apparently get better and better as it went and having seen a later episode or two casually , I can agree. Plus I admit to loving the touch of having batgirl join up before batman. Also the movie where he fights dracula is fucking dope and wel lworth your time.

Johnny Test: I'd say the twins for being usually hilaroius. As for the show.. it's eh. I used to hate it

But I now see it as an okay show that had some fun bits, and what I saw of the revival, as sadly short lived as it was, was better. It's still not AMAZING, but it wasn't the mindless garbage it got labeled as either. Nor a dexter's lab ripoff.. I do think they took some inspriation from it clearly, I mean look at the twins... but when you look at the cast none of them really match up to dexter's aside from the twins, whose crush on gil and age diffrenate them just enough. It's not an amazing show but it's hate was overblown.

Loonatics Unleahsed: Look the base concept of "The looney tunes as superhero: could be fun. I have a batman daffy and superman bugs on my desk as I type this. They did skits of the kind. The problem is lonatics wanted to be batman beyond with looney tunes and it never worked as a kid and dosen't work now.

Tom and Jerry Tales; I love tom and jerry but i've barely seen this.

Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue: The timing on this one as good as i've been watching through this on and off with @jess-the-vampire recently. I don't really have a faviorite. As for the show itself it's overhated like the last two entries and honestly.. it's okay. It's nothing amazing thus far, trying to be venture bros by having henchman 2 be an obvious ripoff of 21. Which wouldn't bother me if they did it right but instead he's just annoying. That being said it's still not a terrible series: the theme song is terrible but the show itself is solid, having intresting sometimes bonkers plot and shoudlnt' be vilified for breaking formula. It may not entirely work.. but I can respect TRYING something new an dhope go go mystery machine is a better version of this.

Legion of Super Heroes: Bouncing Boy: this series kept his goofy powers but also what works: someone who badly wanted to join the legion, never gave up and then threw in his reboot self's pilot skills and flsehd out his perosnality.

As for the show i'm a big legion of superheroes fan and this show is part of what brought me to the clubhouse. It's a slick show that nicely merges the two continuties it had to work with: the pre zero our one from the silver age and beyond and the reboot that helped ground things (The third reboot, yes three and there was a fourth long after, was just happening around this time so only star boy being black made the cut from there), while keeping the silver age namesan dastetic from before.

The result is a fun show that loves the legion dearly, has a great cast of characters and despite being made to have a teen superman show dosen't let clark overshadow everyone else: he's the lead.. but most of the main cast get a focus episode over the course of season 1. I"ll admit season 2 isn't quite as good as due to executive mandates the female cast is sidelined in places and imperix is a boring villian, while superman x, superman but EDGGGYYYYY just isn't that intresting. But season 2 isn't all bad with some standout episodes, the addition of chameleon boy and a truly chilling arc with brainy and an old friend I won't spoil for those who haven't seen the show. This series is a little seen gem that needs more love.

I realized as we worked on this I almost forgot something important, a series that begs for the spotlight so..

What's New Scooby Doo: We're comin after you, we're gonna solve that mystery. This is a hard one as the gang is reinvented well but i'd have to go with Fred, whose goofiness begins. After the great prequel that was pup named scooby doo and the success of the live action movie, What's New was a reinvention of the franchise in an odd way: it goes back to the gangs old actors , minus grey delise making her debut as daphne, and old style of writing thigns but updates it in a way that dosen't feel too dated now: sure the gang does extreme sports, but it's not to rocket power levels and fits for Daphne.

This series also cements fred and daphne's new roles going forward, roles that helped keep the character fresh despite the dozens of films and handful of series to come. Fred was dialed back from teh conpsiarcy theroist of pup, but instead became the bumbling tourist, a tad awkawrd in places and a tad over excited in others. It added nice layers to him besides solving mysteries and bullying his best friend and it left the door open for him to get reinvented a lot. Daph meanwhile, got a welcome reinvention that let her fit into the classic gang better: like her pup counterpart she often uses fashion, her wealth is more displayed (if not used as a fucntion) but her friendly nature and willingness to get into things (or easliy getting into activties she hated at first), all debuted here.

What's New is a fun series: shorter than you'd think, but having watched it about twice with jess , it holds up really well, combinging the usual formula with some fun hyjinks and creative setups. Sometimes it was bonkers, but it was a solid return to form that let the series experiment more with the next few, and deserves more credit for helping codify a lot of the modern franchise.

[pardi-real]

Honeymoon Knight / Chapter 14 - Contest Winners

Prev | All | Next

~ Later ~

After leaving Maroota... We arrived in the city of Tisailles. The streets adorned with ribbons and frills were illuminated by the early summer light, enhancing their vividness.

Flure: "Fufu… It's been a while since we've been to Tisailles, my lord."

> "Since the contest, right?"

Muu: "Mr. Flure, you were amazing in the contest! You looked so cool!"

Flure: "Come on, Muu, stop it."

Lato: "Kufufu... I've heard about Flure's triumph from the other butlers. He excelled as both a designer and a model, receiving great acclaim from the audience."

Miyaji: "Not aiming to win the contest… but crafting a performance that brings joy to the audience, all while enjoying it yourselves.  I found it truly wonderful. If only… I could have witnessed it firsthand."

Flure: "Thank you, Prof. Miyaji..."

Miyaji: "Oops, we've already talked about this many times in the mansion..."

Flure: "Y-yes, that's true."

Lato: "It's a shame we couldn't go together. I really wished to see Flure dance freely on the runway."

Muu: “It was really fantastic, right? My lord!"

> "It was incredibly cool"

Flure: "A-alright, that's enough. Let's put an end to this conversation about me."

Lato: "Flure is quite shy, isn't he?"

Flure: "You're being noisy, Lato."

Miyaji: "By the way... Although the result was a close runner-up… you received a prize from the winning team, didn't you?"

Flure: "Yes. The winning team's ‘Monsieur Chatnoir’ said, 'It's our loss,' and gave it to us."

Lato: "Chatnoir...? Hmm…… The name sounds familiar. Have I met this person somewhere?"

Miyaji: "It was the team that was the runner-up in the fashion contest four years ago. You participated in the previous contest, right, Lato?"

Lato: "Ah, yes. I remember now. Kufufu. That's when I participated with Mr. Zepal, Mr. Berrien, and Prof. Miyaji. How nostalgic."

Miyaji: “Yeah. But... I haven't told you about this yet, Flure, when I heard that you 'didn't aim to win’... I was honestly surprised. Zepal said the same thing back then."

Flure: "Huh? R-really? This is the first time I'm hearing this. I heard a lot about the contest from Mr. Zepal, but... he never mentioned that. Instead, it was more like he was aiming to win together."

Miyaji: "Well, Zepal probably said something like that."

Lato: “Yes, that's just like him.”

Flure: "So... Mr. Zepal intentionally lied to me?"

Miyaji: "Well, you know... He's very sociable... And a kind man who thinks about others' feelings.  He thought saying things like 'I didn't plan to win, but I ended up winning' would make others feel uncomfortable... so that's probably why he lied to you."

Flure: "I see."

> "It was a white lie"

Muu: "Even just from this talk, Mr. Zepal seems like a wonderful person! I wanted to actually talk to him."

> “Indeed” > "Me too..."

Flure: "Mr. Zepal… Like me... Fufu. So that's what happened.  Yeah... I think it was cool how he said, 'I went there to win,' but...  Mr. Zepal, who enjoyed fashion to the fullest... That's really him being himself.  Mr  Zepal is cool, after all... I wanted to be like Mr. Zepal, but... the result was runner-up and a special prize... I'm still no match for Mr. Zepal."

> "Flure..."

Miyaji: "Raise your head, Flure. There's no need to be so down. From my perspective, who spent a long time with Zepal... I don't see a clear difference between you and Zepal. Both of you love fashion... Enjoy it to the fullest... And you've polished your skills. This outfit is also very beautiful. Zepal would surely say the same."

Flure: "Prof. Miyaji... Thank you."

Lato: "Flure is an excellent outfit designer. To be honest... I prefer Flure's outfits over Zepal's."

Flure: "Fufu... You're exaggerating a bit, Lato."

Lato: "Oh? I don't think I'm exaggerating. Outfits made by Flure are particularly comfortable to wear."

Flure: "Geez... If you say more than that, Mr. Zepal might get angry, you know? But, thanks. I feel a little better now."

Lato: "That's good."

Muu: "By the way... Listening to everyone... Now I wanted to see the contest four years ago…!"

> "What kind of contest was it?"

Miyaji: "The theme was 'All Black.'"

> “All Black…” > "Sounds like a cool theme"

Miyaji: "At that time, elegant attire was the trend. Designs that emphasized elegance and luxury... were sought after, all unified in black."

Lato: "Hmm... It's starting to come back to me... That's right... At that time, exposing too much skin wasn't favored in the trends, right?"

> "So that's how it was"

Muu: "I don't know anything about outfits, but... it seems difficult to be unique that way."

> “I agree” > "Indeed... Barely any freedom of expression there"

Miyaji: "That's where Zepal... deliberately included designs that exposed the skin. Of course, while valuing elegant elements. I remember there was the use of translucent materials."

Muu: "I see...! He dared to enter the contest… by incorporating the parts that were limiting enjoyment of fashion! Truly, it's the same as Flure!"

Flure: "I also wanted to see Mr. Zepal and everyone's contest in person... It must have been incredibly cool."

Miyaji: "Just like how I wanted to see your contest in person. We think alike, Flure."

Flure: "That's true."

Muu: "Fufufu. It feels like we've learned a lot from this conversation! My lord!"

> “Yes” > "I'm glad we could learn from it"

Prev | All | Next

[amorest-viesse]

[A Touch of Magic for the Model] - Chloe SSR Card Story Translation

Ft. Faust and Akira

For Future Reference - Chapter 1

[Dressing Room]

Akira: (It was a tough journey to get here, but I’m glad everything turned out fine for Chloe in the end…)

As I made my way to the dressing room, I reflected on our experience with “The Amoire’s Diadem,” the premier fashion contest in the West. It was the stage all designers strived for...

Faust & Chloe: …

Faust and Chloe were already inside when I got there, sitting in front of a mountain of papers with worried looks on their faces.

Akira: Faust, Chloe, is something the matter?

Chloe: Master Sage! Apparently winning first prize comes with a ton of paperwork to complete.

Chloe: We’ve got a whole pile to knock out.

Much like the fashion competition itself, the documents Chloe showed me were decorated with stylish patterns and accents.

Faust: From what I can tell, these papers address things like legal rights and storage instructions for your design.

Akira: Winners still have it rough after the competition huh…

Chloe: Right? But we’re at the final stretch, so we gotta pull through!

Chloe grabbed a document from off the pile.

Chloe: (W- What does any of this mean? There’s so many complicated terms that I can’t make heads or tails of it…!)

Akira: …Are you alright, Chloe…?

Chloe: T- Totally! Umm, I think this one is saying my outfit is gonna be displayed at some grand hall in the West!

Chloe: If that’s fine with me then I just need to sign here…

Faust: …Hold on a second. There’s some more information here.

Faust: The exhibition will only be open from evening hours until morning in accordance with the theme of the competition… Will this cause any issues?

Chloe: Wow, I can’t believe I almost missed that! Since the text was in cursive along the border, I totally thought it was part of the design!

Akira: It really does blend right into its surroundings… Good catch, Faust.

Faust: It's nothing special. I have to deal with this regularly in the East, so I’m used to it.

Faust: …Would you like some help with the rest of those papers?

Chloe: Huh?

Faust: Judging by your reaction, I assume you’re new to this.

Faust: While it’s good to want to tackle things on your own, it doesn’t hurt to ask for some help either.

Chloe: Faust… Thanks so much for the offer.

Chloe: If you’re willing to help out then… Could I ask you to teach me how to do paperwork too?

Akira: What do you mean?

Chloe: It won’t do me any good in the long run if Faust just does the work for me.

Chloe: I want to learn how to do it myself in case I ever win another competition like this again in the future…

Chloe: Ahaha, I’ve only won this one though, so I’ll stop here before I jinx myself…

Chloe: Anyways, I’m sorry for the hassle! If you don’t want to do it, you definitely don’t have to!

Faust: …It’s not a problem whatsoever.

Faust: If that’s what you want, then I’ll teach you what I know.

For Future Reference - Chapter 2

Faust: First off, I’ll explain how to break down and read a document.

Chloe & Akira: We’re all ears, Master Faust!

Faust: …It’s funny hearing that from the two of you.

As Faust was lecturing, Chloe took down notes with rapt attention. Beside him, I listened in for any useful information.

Faust: …And those should be the basics. Next we’ll try applying them for real.

Faust: The easiest way to learn is by practicing over and over again while familiarizing yourself with the formula. If there’s anything you’re unsure about, please ask.

Chloe: Understood! Now where should I start…

Chloe: “From the Armoire to You: A Ray of Light For the Residents of Fashion Nation Consent Form”?

Akira & Faust: (That’s one heck of a title…)

Chloe: First off, I need to replace difficult words with simpler phrases…

Despite the unfamiliar terminology and Western flair of the documents, Chloe continued to write away.

Sitting beside him, Faust would check over Chloe’s work and give advice while I sorted the papers as they were completed.

Chloe: Sign my name here and… Done! Could you hand me the next one, Master Sage?

Akira: Of course! And with this one, we’re halfway done.

Chloe: Already!? I’m taking so long to read these that I was sure we had more to go.

Akira: Aw, don’t say that! You’re getting faster and faster with every document. It’s genuinely impressive.

Chloe: …Now that you mention it, I’m recognizing more of those stock phrases, so it’s getting easier to read things.

Chloe: This must be what Faust meant by “formula” earlier.

Faust: That’s exactly it.

Faust: However, don’t rush things either. You’ve overlooked a few things here... and here, so take your time and be careful.

Chloe: Really!? I totally wasn’t paying attention there… Thanks for catching that!

Akira: It’s natural for your mind to wander once you’ve been doing the same task long enough.

Akira: At times like these, it’s good to get a little change of pace. For example, you could raise your arms and stretch as high as you can.

Chloe: Ahaha, I do that while working on an outfit too! Taking a break can do wonders.

Chloe & Akira: Stre—tch!

Faust: …The two of you remind me of cats.

And so, we made our way through the pile.

Akira: The next one is the final document!

Faust: This one ought to wrap things up nicely.

Akira: What does it say?

Faust: It concerns the first place prize money. Messing up here could mean not getting paid.

Faust: There are several things to fill out, and it’s the most complex form yet. However, if you apply everything I taught you today, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.

Chloe: Wow, this one’s a wringer…

Chloe: Still, I can’t let everyone’s efforts go to waste! I’ll make sure to get that prize money!

Filled with more motivation than ever, Chloe began to read through the final document with a determined look on his face.

For Future Reference - Chapter 3

As Faust watched over him from behind, Chloe scanned through the document with his class notes in hand.

Chloe: Umm, first, I need to read over the whole thing and make sure I have everything I need to fill it out.

Akira: Is there anything?

Chloe: Um, let me see… Ah! Yes!

Casting his spell, Chloe conjured his sketchbook and flipped to a page filled with neat, round handwriting.

Akira: What’s this?

Chloe: A record of how much I spent to make the outfit.

Chloe: Thankfully, Heath said he’d write that down for me.

Akira: Oh! Nice going, Heath!

Chloe: Next… I need to check if there are any terms or conditions that would disadvantage me.

Akira: Make sure to look for any hidden ones like on that first document.

Chloe: Absolutely… Hmm… This looks fine… This too…

Chloe: Alright! Everything looks good to me!

As Chloe went along, he carefully filled in all the required information. Finally, all that was left to do was sign.

Chloe: We finished!!

Chloe: Wait no, I can’t forget! We gotta check one last time for any errors or oversights!

As Chloe looked over the paperwork, I made my way to him and Faust.

Chloe: Master Faust! Please check over it one more time too!

Faust: Good work, Chloe. I’ll take it from here.

Faust: …

Chloe & Akira: …

Chloe: Ohh, I can’t look! What if I did something wrong…

Akira: …I’m sure it’ll be fine Chloe. You got this.

Chloe: Master Sage…

Akira: After seeing how hard you’ve been working today, there’s no way you could fail now…

Chloe: …Ehehe, thank you. Hearing that makes me feel more confident too.

Faust: …Chloe.

Chloe: Y- yes sir!

Handing back the paperwork, Faust looked up at Chloe and smiled.

Faust: Everything looks perfect. Well done.

Chloe: R- Really!?

Akira: Congratulations, Chloe!

Chloe: Thank goodness… I really appreciate both of you for helping me out today!

Chloe: Thank you for taking a break with me Master Sage, and thank you Faust for teaching me how to navigate all this paperwork…

Chloe: Because of you guys, I had a lot of fun learning something new!

Faust: I’m glad it worked out in the end.

Faust: I’m sure you’ll do great the next time you win a competition.

Chloe: …! Thank you!

Chloe: Alright! I’ll make sure to work even harder from now on to make sure I don’t let these skills go to waste!

Looking at Chloe’s bright smile, I could only imagine where he would go from here.

The thought of it filled me with excitement as he took yet another step towards the future.

Start Where You Can - Card Episode

Akira: You did a great job with all that paperwork, Chloe.

Chloe: Thank you! It was super overwhelming at first since I’d never done anything like it before, but I’m glad everything turned out fine in the end.

Chloe: Eastern Country paperwork must be a completely different beast to tackle though. Have you ever dealt with it?

Akira: I received some from Sir Cock Robin before. They were completely crammed with print from top to bottom.

Chloe: Right!? I was helping Faust carry some Eastern paperwork earlier too, and he showed me a couple pages…

Chloe: Every single one I flipped to looked exactly like that. It was insane.

Akira: If anyone could handle that, it’d be Faust.

Chloe: Right, right? If it were me, I’d probably be knocked out before I knew it!

Akira: Ahaha… It was the same back home.

Akira: Whenever I read something I didn’t understand, I’d just end up spacing out.

Chloe: I totally get that. That’s why I think people who can do that kind of work are incredible.

Chloe: Since Faust took the time to teach me, I’ll definitely do my best to get there… Although, maybe I’ll start with Western style paperwork first!

Home Screen Voice Line

“There are times when Heath comes off as cool and capable, and other times when he’s more reserved, like a cute, younger brother. Either way, isn’t he just the best? Even though Heath tends to hold back, he can be quick to make decisions and show how he really feels when it comes down to it. Wait, is this what you call ‘gap moe’?”

[cobycobsy2k]

"Welcome back to this Reality Show! Today we will have the first challenge where we will test our contestants and their culinary qualities! Will they be able to prepare a delicious dish for our Bachelors? Find out today on THE BACHELORS !"

THE BACHELORS Episode 2: "Drama Kitchen"

Xander and Coco: Congratulations guys! We're really glad that all of you were able to make it to this round! It's really not easy to introduce yourself and meet new people, but we two are very proud of each of you!

Coco: So for our second round, you will be assigned to prepare both Xander and I a delicious meal, whether it be breakfast, lunch, or dessert. For that they will be distributed in pairs!, since this will make things more interesting, but remember that from here we will begin the elimination rounds, if someone does not manage to have more than 10 points, unfortunately they will be eliminated!

Xander: So let's form the pairs: Keegan will go with Lexie, Hazal will go with Francisca, James and Salma will go together and finally Lauryn will go with Charlie! We recommend that in pairs you plan very well what you are going to make for food, you can tell us anything!

Apparently the assigned pairs made a lot of impression on everyone, some were a little surprised and also a little upset.

--------------------------------------

Francisca: Wow, first time I come to the set of this mansion, nice decoration! Well, let's get to the point, that Hazal girl and I have to do something that will shock both Xander and Coco! I was thinking about using my powerful secret salad recipe, but I think I'd better ask Hazal for ideas.

Producer: Hey Francisca, your outfit is spectacular!!

Francisca: Thank you darling! That's why I came, to dazzle everyone with my elegance and sense of glamour!

--------------------------------------

Lexie: OMG, I can't believe we got to work together!

Keegan: Me too, Lexie! Your outfit is really adorable! How do you manage to dress so well?

Lexie: Well, I get a lot of inspiration from watching movies and series, although I also tend to read fashion magazines a bit. You should see all my blogs on MyPlumbSpace!

James: Hey Cousin, are you thinking the same as me?

Salma: Obviously James! Let me see if there are any cooking shows on TV! Everyone should know that we Waldorfs cook very well!

Couples are busy planning what to make for food, some already have ideas ready, while others are still undecided. You can tell that Hazal, Lexie, Francisca and Keegan are getting along very well.

Hazal: We could make maybe a salad or some hamburgers… That's the easiest thing we could do.

Francisca: Hey Hazal, I wanted to tell you if we could make crepes! I'm a very expert when it comes to making crepes!

Hazal: Maybe… What if we better do both?

Lexie: Taking advantage of the fact that you and I are here in this same room, Francisca, I wanted to tell you that the other day I received a call from someone who threatened me, demanding that I leave the program… Does this sound familiar to you?

Those words quite surprised Francisca, who was quite surprised and at the same time confused.

Francisca: What are you talking about, Lexie? I admit that I'm a little competitive, but I wouldn't cheat to win…

Keegan: Lexie And why do you think Francisca was the one who threatened you?

Lexie: Lauryn and her partner told me something like that!

Hazal: Honey, do you realize who the hell is telling you that fake Francisca shit? Charlie has already made us all sick of it! I'll only tell you one thing, take good care of your friend Lauryn with him…

-----------------------------------

Lexie: Wow… Apparently I started a drama here, the truth is that was not my intention, I just wanted to clear things up with Francisca. But I see that she is innocent and someone wants to ruin her reputation, but who would be able to do something like that?

Lexie: I swear that if I make it past this round, I will invite Francisca to go to a nightclub to apologize!

-------------------------------

Francisca: And where are Charlie and Lauryn!? Let's talk seriously with them!!

The two of them were just coming home from shopping for their prescription.

Charlie: Good morning everyone guys! Why are you so serious with me?

Hazal: Shove your good morning up your ass!! Are you so unhappy to cause problems for the other team!?

Charlie: What the fuck are you talking about Hazal!?

Francisca: Don't act stupid, all you want is to win at the expense of us all fighting!

Charlie: I swear I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!! You know what? FUCK YOU ALL!!

Salma (While she was watching TV): OMG, he is literally soo rude!!

[shiorimakibawrites]

The Escape Artist (Part 2 of Alley Cat)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net/Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1200

Summary:  Houdini is a sneaky sneak. You are (maybe) flirted at. You awkwardly flirt back. Sort of. Kinda.

Warning(s): Awkward flirting?

Series Masterlist

The Escape Artist

When you came home that night, tired after another long day at the office, you were relieved when Houdini didn't rush the door.

Instead he remained on the couch, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, and gave a soft meow of greeting. After setting down your bag and kicking off your heels, you picked up and cuddled your cat. His purring and soft, warm body was just the stress relief you needed. He grumbled a little when you put him back down but quieted after being given his nightly treat. He seemed content to remain, napping nearby while you made your dinner and ate.

It was only after your shower that you realized that he had been luring you into a false sense of security.

New York City was never quiet. There was always a hum of activity but you had been living in the city long enough for that hum to become white noise. There but not really noticeable unless it changed. A siren would start wailing. A car with very squeaky brakes might shriek by. Drivers would get into a short but intense horn-blowing contest. A shouting match would erupt. All perfectly normal.

So it took a minute for you to notice that those normal and expected sounds were less muffled than they normally were from inside your apartment. You frowned, looking around in confusion

And that's when you saw it. Your bedroom window – the one you knew had been shut and locked earlier – was open. Not all the way but certainly high enough for something like a cat to squeeze through. You darted toward the window, pushed it the rest of the way up, stuck your head out and looked down.

Sure enough, through the darkness and the grating of the fire escape, you could just make out the familiar form of Houdini already a couple floors down. How he managed to do that without falling off was a mystery but not one you were concerned with at the moment.

“Houdini, get back here!” You yelled. In typical cat fashion, he ignored you completely. You swore and contemplated going after him. However, there were a couple of problems with that idea.

One, the little bugger was really fast. You probably won't catch him before he got to the bottom and disappeared. Second, even if you did catch him, you'd have to figure out how to carry a squirming cat up the fire escape. Third, you were wearing neither socks or shoes and that slightly rusty metal didn't look at comfortable for bare feet. Taking the time to grab said foot coverings only gave Houdini more time to escape and he already had a head start.

You might be able to intercept him at the bottom, if you took the elevator to the ground floor. But that would mean going into the alley late at night. You looked toward the ground and bite your bottom lip – anyone could be hiding in those shadows. Daredevil was (probably) on patrol but he could anywhere in Hell's Kitchen . . .

A indignant yowl interrupted your train of thought. You were even more confused when that yowl was followed by a tirade of feline profanity. The mystery was soon resolved when out of the shadows came Daredevil climbing the fire escape with a rather irate Houdini tucked under one arm.

Your jaw dropped. You didn't know how to react. Again, of all the ways you thought you might encounter the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, this particular scenario had never entered your mind. Mostly because there wasn't even a hint of Daredevil being the rescue cats from trees type of hero. He was the put the fear of God into people kind of hero.

It didn't take the vigilante very long to get up your fire escape.

“Evening” he said before gesturing to the grumbling cat under his arm. “This yours?”

His voice was still deep and low but he was apparently far too amused to maintain the growling rasp.

“Y-Yes,” you answered. Then, because your brain-to-mouth filter had ceased to function, said, “I didn't know you also wrangled cats.”

“I'm a man of many talents,” he said and there was something about his voice that almost seemed . . . flirty. Was he flirting with you? That couldn't be right. Men this handsome didn't flirt with you. Ever. An average-looking person like you was practically invisible to someone so beautiful. And he was a superhero. While you had never really meet any of the other heroes in the city, you were pretty sure that they didn't flirt with you either.

“I'm sure,” you said and fought the urge to cringe. That had come out breathier than you had intended because, despite the fact you were sure he wasn't flirting with you, it still flustered you. Still sent those tingles down your spine. Because you wanted it to be flirting. You wanted him to find you as attractive you found him. Which only made you feel even more awkward than usual. Because how likely was that?

His answering grin was all kinds of smug but he didn't say anything further, just held out the sulking cat.

“Hang on a minute,” you said before turning to grab a blanket. Houdini seemed calm but you knew from experience that he could turn into a ball of fur and razor blades in an instant. You flopped the blanket on the cat and wrapped him like a burrito before taking him back. Houdini accepted this state of affairs with minimal grumbling.

“T-thanks for catching him,” you said. “K-kinda of surprised you didn't get bit. Houdini isn't fond of picked up by strangers.”

“He tried,” Daredevil said. “Unfortunately for him, my suit is cat-teeth resistant.”

“S-special feature?” You asked. You weren't trying to flirt. You didn't know how to flirt.

He grinned again. “Yep, paid extra for it.”

There it was again, that definitely not-flirting tone, before he sobered and said, “I hate to cut this short but I need to finish my patrol.”

You were skeptical about this first half of his sentence. Awkward conversation with a stranger was no one's idea of a good time. But the second half was plausible.

“Yeah,” you said and tried to give him your least awkward smile. “Those criminals aren't going to catch themselves.”

It wasn't all that funny but he still chuckled. “No, they aren't.”

“Guess I'll see you later?” you said and then wanted to smack yourself. Stop trying to flirt, you told yourself sternly. You're bad at it and hitting on a guy this hot is asking for heartbreak.

“I guess you will,” he said with a peculiar emphasizes on you. Then snickered.

You had distinct impression there was some kind of punchline here that you were missing. But you had not time to puzzle it out as with acrobatic flip, he was gone.

Houdini did not take his defeat at the hands of Daredevil lying down. In fact, he seemed to have regard Daredevil catching him during his escape to be a challenge. And your Houdini was never one to back down from a challenge.

Apparently neither was Daredevil. So far the vigilante was winning.